Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Love poems... day 3

The matches fall to the ground as smoke clears the air,
her nostrils flare in thrill of candlelight.
Each spark leads anticipation
like clairvoyant sense;
the glands melting away to pheromone grace.
His lips in baroque distance
bow to her smile, as gravity washes down wax
slender fingertips intersect creating voltage.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thanks for your comment!

There was an error in this gadget

EuropaSounds

Loading...